


The Prized Orchid

by sloganeer



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Community: picfor1000, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Melbourne Garden Club's annual flower contest was tomorrow, and Jack was determined to win. Last year, he was bested by Mrs. Frederick Homan and just two points. "This year," he had promised, "the cup is mine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prized Orchid

"Pour the man another drink, Mr. B."

"Not tonight, Phryne. I must be getting home, and if I have another one of Mr. Butler's drinks, I'll have to confine myself to the drunk tank."

Phryne held up her own glass for Mr. Butler to refill from his silver pitcher of mystery. His cocktails were delightful, whether she knew what was in them or not.

"Oh, Jack. The night doesn't have to end because dinner is over."

"You know I would love to stay," Jack said.

"No, I don't." She turned her body on the chaise, leaning into Jack where he sat, still and stiff against the tufted arm. Obviously there hadn't been enough wine with dinner.

"You know I would pretend I planned to stay." Jack put his hand on her bare knee. "But with the contest tomorrow, I really can't leave my orchid at home alone."

Phryne pouted, but Jack was firm. It was the worst of his best qualities.

The Melbourne Garden Club's annual flower contest was tomorrow, and Jack was determined to win. Last year, he was bested by Mrs. Frederick Homan and just two points. "This year," he had promised, "the cup is mine."

Phryne didn't say that she could buy him whatever cup he wanted. She rather liked the look of Jack all fired up over his flowers. She rather wanted those rough-worked hands on her body, instead of in the dirt.

Jack made his apologies and took his leave, kissing her in the front hall, letting Phryne adjust his tie (though it looked immaculate, even after a snog), and then drove himself home.

Phryne took herself to bed with another cocktail, had a moment with her body and Jack's lips still lingering on her mouth, then fell into a deep sleep.

By the time she and Dot arrived at the Veteran's Hall the next morning, Phryne assumed Jack would be in need of a break from the ladies. But he was nowhere to be found. Phryne tapped the shoulder of a woman in lilac and carrying a clipboard. She seemed to be in charge. 

"Has Jack Robinson checked in yet?"

The woman spun around with a frantic look on her face. "Do you know the inspector?" she asked.

"I do," Phryne said, but nothing more than that. A lady didn't speak about her suitors to strangers, and a detective revealed  
nothing about their investigation, so Phryne was well-versed in the art of silence.

"He's late!" the woman shrieked. She was not so versed. "We need him here for the Parade of the Flowers. We can't start the judging until after the Parade of the Flowers. It's on the agenda!" She turned her clipboard away from her chest, but pulled it away before Phryne could get a good look.

"Would you like me to retrieve him?" Phryne asked, sweetness in her voice.

"Oh, please. You'll be saving the garden club."

Phryne would also get a little more time alone with Jack and away from these ladies. She left Dot behind, busy hanging bunting along the front of Jack's empty table. 

"I'll be fine, Miss," she promised, and Phryne was on her way. 

She drove, too fast for the rest of her household, but just right for her. It was a sunny day, her car was purring, and Phryne should have been enjoying herself. But with Jack missing, her brain wouldn't settle. 

"Stupid man!" she shouted over the wind and traffic. If he had stayed in her bed last night, they wouldn't have this problem, and they would have had more fun.

Phryne parked her Hispano-Suiza across the street from Jack's little cottage. Another car--an unfamiliar car--was already parked in his driveway, under his gum tree. 

Another woman might assume the worst, but Phryne knew Jack. She pulled her little gun out of her handbag and cut through the neighbour's yard to find a way into Jack's backyard. 

Through an open window, she could hear his voice--rough and strained, but alive.

"You didn't exactly think this through, did you?"

Phryne paused, her Louis heels sinking into the wet earth, before she realised Jack wasn't speaking to her. He was speaking to his kidnapper. 

"It's all right," he said. "No one has been hurt yet. You can untie these ropes, and I won't have to arrest anyone today."

Phryne crept closer, removing her bright red cloche before peeking over the windowsill. She held her breath because when she spotted Jack, still in his pyjamas, hands tied in front of him, she wanted to gasp.

"A few more hours, Inspector," an old voice said. "Just until my Mavis wins the blue ribbon for her orchid, then you're free to go."

The man sat in a chair at the end of Jack's bed, cane propped against his knee. He held no gun in his hand. He had obviously caught Jack early in the morning, while he was still asleep, perhaps. 

Phryne replaced her hat and walked back to the front door. It was unlocked. She enjoyed a challenge, but her heart had taken enough today.

"This is ridiculous, Mr. O'Neal," Jack was saying as Phryne walked towards to bedroom at the back of the house. She hadn't been invited this far yet--they did most of the entertaining in Phryne's more suitable rooms--and she hesitated at the open door. Jack would be embarrassed: rescued by Phryne (again), in his pyjamas, in his own home. But there wasn't time for decorum. 

Jack had a prize to win.

"It's over, Mr. O'Neal," Phryne said in her most commanding voice, training her gun on the gentleman in the chair. She saw Jack fall back onto his pillows in relief. "Would you like to press charges, Inspector Robinson?"

"That's all right, Miss Fisher. I think having Mavis O'Neal banned from the garden club will be punishment enough."

She grinned at Jack as he held up his bound hands. "It's a good look," she said, making no move. 

Jack blushed.


End file.
